Everything That's Left
by FluffySpook
Summary: 10.2 chat between Harry and Ruth. Spoilers for 10.1 only.
1. Chapter 1

_**Spoilers for 10.1, but not any further, because I'm not reading any spoilers. **_

At his door, they needn't say anything but 'hello'. He widens the gap and she slips into the warmth of his house, that could never seem homely, and she follows him through to the kitchen, where the sweet smell of tika masala beckons.

"Harry it's nearly eleven o' clock," she protests as she slips off her coat and he pours the rice across the chicken fresh from the microwave.

"I haven't eaten since about one," he explains, "And to be entirely honest I can't be bothered to cook. Would you like some?" He reaches for two slender wine glasses, before opening the fridge to pull out a bottle of Kaprese. Funny, she thinks; she's never been to his house, and he's already acting like they've shared this place for twenty years.

"Oh, um, no – thank you. I'm not hungry."

"Right answer," he grins, "More for me."

He gestures to the table where they sit, oblivious to how routine they would appear any passing man or woman. A married couple, one of whom is extremely hungry, who sit and talk of the days events. Who's children are at university. Who's upstairs bathroom needs re-decorating.

Who's life could have been a breath away from anyone else's. Who's love is there but buried under regret, uncertainty and secrets.

After a long but appreciated moment of silence and two mouthfuls of dinner, he says,

"You knew, didn't you."

"Knew what?"

"About Elena and I," he dips and focuses on a fork full of brightly-coloured chicken, "The fact that she was probably more than just an asset."

Her eyes are forgiving but it is unfortunate her voices claims differently. She doesn't mean it to.

"I had... an inkling, I suppose." She replies.

"Female intuition."

"A rather developed version."

She follows with a small sip of the wine, and finds his eyes halfway through the motion.

"Is that what you came over to talk about?" he asks. There is a momentary instant where her eyes reflect insult, and he stops chewing. But soon her expression softens, and he continues, "Because I think we should. And about Sasha. What we're going to do."

As if the oak table could provide a solution, she stares at it, tiredly. Defeated.

"Does Sasha know that you're his father?"

She can almost see the knife that jabs his heart.

"No."

She sighs, "Well I think he should."

"Ruth, if I told him, he'd probably kill me. Elena's obviously never told him which suggests she's never wanted to. What would it even achieve?"

She nips the wine again and sits back with a shrug, in an obvious reference to defeat, one that he mimics as he pokes chicken pieces around his place, leaning heavily on one shoulder. The reply of, 'I don't know' is left unsaid.

"He looks like you y'know," she smiles from nowhere, eyes hanging loosely on his features. "I mean I only saw him briefly at the reception, but I'm surprised Ilya hasn't had his doubts at all. Well, maybe he has. He doesn't have your eyes though."

As words fail him, he keeps silent, guiltily and takes a gulp of wine. It only leads to an obligation for her to speak and lift the gravity of the remark (none of which she intended), so she continues almost without thinking.

"Harry I actually came round to talk about the Home Secretary. And for advice. He said at the reception that I should consider promotion."

_**More soon, if you'd like it.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you for the feedback, lovely to hear. :) A certain line is from 10.2, taken from the Lord and Master Ian Wylie.**_

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><p>She can see, in his face, that he is heavily thankful for the change in subject. But in exactly the same moment as his eyes dart away from her own, she thinks she sense's surprise. Or shock. Whatever it is it dissipates as soon as he nods and continues with his meal. Though he contemplates it, he doesn't say 'you should' because although it is true, he knows neither of them want to hear it. He wants to hear the opposite for certain. And she wouldn't be here if she was confident to take up the proposal.<p>

"So," he starts, "You'd like my advice?"

"Well, yes. I mean, I've probably decided already, actually..."

He stops eating.

"Oh."

"I don't particularly want a promotion," she notes, quickly, watching relief flood his face. "Regardless of whether I deserve one or not. I just wanted to know what you think."

"I... erm," he struggles, "I think you should do what you feel is best."

"Harry, a high school careers advice team could have told me that," she smirks and he swiftly concurs. "The truth is, I don't _want_ to leave Section D."

"I think it can go without saying that I don't want that either."

Their 'relationship' is not one hundred percent clear but in the moment, as they opposite, the friendship they know is enough to face everything that's thrown at them.

"He was inspired by your report, on me," she says.

"Yes I figured that's where the offer originated from."

"So I have you to thank for this predicament then," she offers playfully with a smile he's missed. The food - still providing a handy distraction - is now thinly scattered across his plate. He piles the rice at the side artfully, playing on her patience, and brings it to his mouth before replying.

"Towers probably see's it more of an opportunity than a predicament, Ruth." He takes the rice as she nods before the classic furrowed brow follows.

"Do you think he'd be offended if I turned it down?"

He shrugs, glancing at the clock as it chimes eleven.

"It's hard to tell. Politicians don't even look disappointed when they loose an election. He likes you - "

"I don't want to be _liked_," she cuts in. "Well I do - but, oh you know what I mean."

"I like you." He stares. She stares. "...but it's not like you don't know that."

She wonders, sometimes, if his brain is completely disconnected from his tongue.

His face tells a different story though, always. In a second the unbearable pressure of the words lift when he looks away, albeit to a folder on his desk, or the phone, or tonight - to his meal. In a very faint way it's almost sorrowful. He always speaks over the truth of what he needs to ask; _have you forgiven me_? For Albany. For Bateman. For Elena. He says things that imply he craves a step forward from where they are now. And she hates herself for denying him the opportunity to prove himself. He's done it already, with John, and yet here they are. Just as before.

"Ruth you must know I wouldn't want you to leave Section D," he comments suddenly seriously. "You're the only one I can turn to. You always have been really. I thought, the other day, that I take you for granted."

"Harry that's ridiculous. Things between us have been... complex, but you've never, ever, taken me for granted. I enjoy my work despite the grief and personal sacrifices that come with it. I don't want to leave Section D either." Then she suddenly drops her gaze to her lap, where her hands also fall, and he finds himself instantly straighter. "I could barely stand your absence during the tribunal. And that was only eight weeks."

"Really?"

"Honestly." Their eyes meet again. "I hated it Harry. Erin's a good Section head, but... she's not you. She's nowhere near you. If a promotion from Towers would place me in job where I couldn't be... where I couldn't be with you, then I don't want it."

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><p><em><strong>More soon.<strong>_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thank you again! Last (quite short) chapter :)**_

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><p>He doesn't need to say anything for her to understand just how much that means to him. With a smile that melts her heart ten times over, he finishes his meal and stands to clear his plate. Though she hasn't stayed long, she's asked of him what she intended so stands as well after finishing the last drop of wine.<p>

"I best be going," she says as he places the plate in the sink. His shoulders sag slightly, she see's as she makes her announcement and when he turns around, he looks slightly lost.

"Would you like a cup of tea... or another glass?" he asks faintly.

"Harry you know I would but we've got a long few weeks ahead of us. All I really want is my bed." The smile she offers is hardly felt, by either of them. "Another time, definitely."

He agrees – bed is the perfect place to be. The fact that it could be the same bed hangs between them without raising an eyebrow but instead raising heartbeats. She moves swiftly to the hall and slips on her coat. As she reaches for the door handle, the sentence he forced down since she entered decides to leap from his tongue, and it stops her in her tracks.

"Ruth, are you angry? About Elena and I."

He stands there, hands limp at his side, shirt untucked, two buttons loose and eyes tired and troubled – adorable. He holds her with those brown stars. He could hold her there forever. What she does then happens on impulse, and surprises her just as much as it does him. Her hand holds his cheek still as her body presses against his and her remaining hand settles as softly as snow on his chest above his heart. Their lips meet in a second so quick that when she pulls away, unsure of his reaction, he has to pull her back and meet it more strongly, with one hand at her nape and the other at the curve of her back.

When they let go, she turns and leaves without a glance or words, only a tight squeeze on his arm. He remains there for just under fifteen seconds before he's brought back to earth, still smiling. He can't remember the last time he's smiled for that long. And he can't remember the last time his world has looked so colourful.

The following evening, she comes back.

They share the meal, not just the wine. They share the smiles, and many more kisses. In the end they share his bed before she finally tells him when they're together and she's curled up in his arms,

"No Harry, I'm not angry."

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><p><em><strong>End, thank you for reading.<strong>_


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